


Noble

by littlelines



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Heavy Angst, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black-centric, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:48:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelines/pseuds/littlelines
Summary: A dive into the life of the young heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue: The End

“You wanna know something, Kreacher?” The boy paused, heaving backward as heavy oars slipped through dark water. The wood creaked and moaned as it ground against the boat’s edge, and though the cavern was cold, humidity collected on his pallid cheeks and in his hair. 

“Yes, Master Regulus?” The house elf rasped. His voice, which used to be kind and low, now came in a hoarse growl. 

“I asked-“ Another pull of the oars. “I asked the sorting hat to put me in Hufflepuff.” 

A nostalgic smile spread across his lips, remembering the warm night of his sorting. He thought of his brother’s enthusiastic ’thumbs up’ as the floppy hat was placed on his head. “It seems silly, right? But the hat told me Hufflepuff was the best fit.” 

The house elf grumbled quietly, shifting in his seat. He raised the oil lantern, so warm light cast long, flickering glances across their faces. Kreacher gazed out into the cavern, unable to see anything beyond the spark of light they carried. He bristled at the cold and met the grey wool blanket snuggly fastened over his shoulders. The house elf looked frail in that pale light, with deep lines etched into his skin; he looked older somehow. Regulus was changed, too. The darkness around them was so heavy, it felt like the universe had hidden away and left them to venture into the deepest hole of the world alone, but Regulus was as a nonchalant figure in the abyss. He held that darkness with the calm, level air of familiarity. 

“The hat said, and I quote, ‘Curious and loyal. Just. But your destiny is greater than you, my boy’.” Regulus made his voice scratchy and low in imitation of the leather hat. “And then it put me in Slytherin for no reason... I can’t help wondering if the sorting hat was predicting this, or predicting something else.” 

Regulus’s shoulders strained under the thin hoodie his brother had abandoned years before. If he’d known how comfortable it was, he would’ve disobeyed the Black Family dress code much earlier. He would've done many things much earlier, if he'd known. 

“What does Master mean?” Kreacher’s voice would never be the same.

“I mean, did the sorting hat know that I would betray Voldemort? Or did it think I’d be his most loyal servant? I suppose the sorting hat isn’t really in a place to choose sides, being a hat and all.” The boy’s black curls bounced as he rocked back and forth, propelling them further toward the poison at the other end of that dark lake. “And if I had been put in Hufflepuff, would everything be different now? Or did the hat really know?”

There was a long pause, then. Water rushed and rippled around the boat as Regulus rowed toward his end. He thought that maybe he would have had friends at Hogwarts. Maybe he would have been more like his brother, more rebellious and more brave. He would have run when he had the chance. It was all a distant and strange fantasy. Things weren’t like that, no matter how much Regulus once wished them into existence. There was nothing else to be done. He and Kreacher cut through the blackness with their flickering lantern light, and he did not feel afraid. 

“Silly, that hat.” Kreacher finally spoke. 

“So silly.” Regulus agreed.


	2. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small glimpse into childhood for the Black brothers.

14th July, 1966  
London

A small, thin finger landed against the soft book page.

“That one- that’s you, Reg.” The boy spoke with a bright smile, and looked down at his brother. The two were tucked tightly next to each other in a deep leather armchair, legs spread out across the seat. The smaller of the two beamed at the image in their book. 

“Woah.” He whispered. His voice was small and sweet, like the sound of sugar poured into a porcelain teacup. “I didn’t know we were all stars.” 

“We are! Well, most of us, anyways.” The older brother flipped the page. “Look, that’s Andromeda and Orion, and-” he flicked the page over again. “Me.” 

“Waitwait, go back, I want to see mine again.” 

It took the boys a moment to find the page once more, their fingers were stickied with honey from scones enjoyed with tea. The shapes on the page were inked in shimmering gold and speckled with white, showing off delicate constellations and milky ways cast over deep hues of the night sky. The little brother pointed again at the brightest star shape. 

“Regulus.” He said, smiling at the word of his name. He drank in the letters, mismatched eyes pouring over every detail. It was wonderful, he thought. A small streak of gold flashed across the planes of the book- a shooting star. Joy fluttered in the small boy’s heart. The world was so small and wonderful, snuggled up beside his big brother. 

“It means Little King.” 

“What does Sirius mean?” 

“Bright, I think.” The older brother tilted his head to peek back at the page with his own constellation on it. He always loved how amazed Regulus was by books. 

“Bright and Little King should be our codenames!” Regulus exclaimed. His eyebrows raised in a broad, amazed expression. “For when we play cops and robbers!” 

“Shh!” Sirius clamped a sticky hand over his baby brother’s mouth. “Mum and dad said we’re not allowed to play that anymore!”

He gave an over exaggerated wink, mouth opening in a lopsided expression. 

Regulus giggled and squirmed out of the chair, performing a silly twirl. He was small for a child just turned five, with a combed mop of tight curls. Walburga, their mother, preferred that her sons be well manicured and their clothes kept clean, so he looked rather neat for a boy. Regulus hummed in his quiet, sugary voice, waving his arms around in the air like a ballerina. While his body was skinny, his cheeks were round and jolly, freckled with marks and often blushed with bright red. His eyes, one green and one brown, were half closed as he danced. 

The boy’s brother was similar in many ways. He had the same dark, curly hair, and eyes in a deep chocolate brown, but Sirius was much taller than Regulus. About two heads taller, in fact. And his face, while still childlike, was narrower and darker; he was kissed golden by sunshine. Sirius was more rambunctious than his baby brother, too. He was often responsible for mischief around the Black household, and was even more often responsible for roping Regulus into that mischief. 

Sirius sparked a devilish grin and grabbed hold of his brother’s hands, leading him in a dramatic waltz. They both knew the steps by heart, having had regular ballroom lessons since they could walk. Regulus squealed with laughter as the boys danced together, stepping in time to silent music. They played make believe like this often, not knowing that most children were allowed records and radios at home. Anyone else could look in at their quiet life and assume it was sad, but the brothers simply didn’t know better. They learned to make their fun. 

“Children! Supper!” Their mother’s short voice cut through the silent symphony. She detested shouting, but often her voice was the loudest. 

Regulus dropped his brother’s hands and sniffed hard. He, in his short years, learned to pack away his fun before dinner. The brothers turned and stepped quietly through the hall, into the grand dining room where the long table was set with fine linens, and silver trays of food heaped so high they could hardly see over the top. The room hung with a dark, oppressive gloom as they slid carefully into their seats. 

Orion Black, the patriarch of the house, took up his place at the head of the table. With a flourish of his wand, the steaming roast set before him began carving itself, sliding into thick slices. The man nodded to his wife, then his sons, and allowed himself to be served first. Sirius’s leg bounced anxiously under the table. He was always ravenously hungry, no matter how much he bothered the house elves for snacks during the day. The boy’s milky brown eyes darted back and forth between his parents for the signal that they could eat. 

Regulus chose to cut his food into small pieces, hoping to help the plate last even longer. Second helpings were not permitted most nights, so he did his best to fill the ache in his stomach. He smoothed his hands slowly over the folded napkin in his lap, and began taking small, even bites. Beside him, Sirius scooped a bit of everything onto his fork and shoveled it into his wide mouth. Walburga tutted quietly, shaking her head. 

“Eat properly, Sirius. Manners.” Her posture was perfectly upright, one hand in her lap, the other poised with a glinting silver fork above her plate. She had sharp, hawkish features- narrow eyes, a pinched mouth, a long, slender neck that held up an impossibly well-groomed mane of dark hair. 

“Yes, mother. I’m sorry.” Sirius’s cheeks flushed red and he lowered his chin with a rough gulp. 

Walburga turned to her smaller son. “Regulus, you have a piano lesson at eight o’clock tomorrow. I expect you to be dressed and ready to floo by seven thirty.” 

“Yes, mother.” He said this evenly. 

“And Sirius, Miss Flint will be here to begin your lessons by eight thirty. You are to be up to help your brother dress, understood?” 

Most nights, this assigning of duties and daily schedules was the only conversation the family had over their dinner. Orion said nothing, but assessed with casual interest in the comings and goings of his house. The man would sit back in his chair, rest his elbows on the table, and otherwise break every convention that he expected his sons to follow, but it didn’t matter. He owned the house, he could do whatever he pleased. If he found the boys' manners particularly good, Orion would reward them with a story before bed. 

And the boys, who had never seen so much as a picture book, loved stories. 

***

“Psst.” Sirius’s voice, even at a whisper, was bright and easily recognizable. “Reggie, are you awake?” 

Regulus turned over, squinting at the bright flicker of the candle in his brother’s hand. Sirius was just barely poking his head into the room, the look on his face owlish and odd. Regulus had been sleeping, but not heavily. Night was always the best time in the Black house, and somehow sleeping felt like a waste. 

“I’m awake.” Regulus whispered back. 

“Can I come in?” Sirius’s eyebrows quirked up. 

“Uh huh.” 

“Great.” He tiptoed into the room, revealing a body wrapped in loose blue flannel pajamas. He took incredible care in closing the heavy door as slowly and soundlessly as possible. Bare feet pattered against floorboards. 

The blanket shifted under Regulus as Sirius crawled beneath it. Something about the weight of the duvet always made the younger boy feel claustrophobic. He liked to be able to roll and toss freely, so instead he slept curled up on the pillowy surface of the bed. With his brother there, he decided to crawl in between the sheets. 

“What’s wrong?” Regulus asked, suddenly wide awake. A thin sliver of moonlight fell across the bed, cutting a slash through his brother’s dark face. 

“I just had a nightmare.” 

“Oh.” This happened often. “Was it scary?” 

“Yeah, really scary.” 

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” 

“Okay.” 

“Let me think.” He silently conjured his favorite pieces of all the things he’d ever been told. His young mind scanned through the fantastic creatures, the brilliant wizards, the mischievous spirits. More than anything, Regulus loved knowing these things. How wonderful it was to have millions of lives inside him. “Okay, I have one.” 

The brothers wriggled closer and faced each other; the flash of light illuminating Sirius’s dark features, Regulus concealed in the shadows before it. Together, like this, everything felt very small and very real. It was as if the world around them quieted entirely to listen in on their whispered conversations. 

“Once upon a time,” Regulus began. “There were two brothers. They lived in a small house in the forest, and hunted rabbits and squirrels for food. They liked to explore the forest they lived in and liked to find new secret places to explore..” 

Regulus let his story wander, going into detail about a hidden cave and a rather rambunctious band of merpeople. It was always much easier to get Sirius to fall asleep with long, rambling tangents. Really, though, Regulus just liked to tell his brother about whatever he’d been learning about with their governess. The recitation would spur questions that he’d save for his next lesson, which would inevitably lead him to new books and new bits of the world around him. 

And Sirius never complained or cut in if Regulus went on and on about something he didn’t care for. He would close his eyes and soak in the small, tinny voice and the winding stories. The words would float aimlessly around in his mind until darkness drank him in, and he drifted into sleep. 

November 3rd, 1970  
London 

“Well done, Regulus!” Sirius’s voice was a booming whoop. “Ten points to Slytherin!” 

The boys raced around each other in zooming spirals, soaring over the greying grass fields below. Sirius, on his new birthday broom, raced faster and faster and climbed higher than he ever had before. Wind rippled through his thick cloaks. It was much too cold to be playing quidditch, but he simply couldn’t put off testing out his new broom. 

Regulus trailed close behind Sirius in an attempt to mimic the dramatic, sweeping style his brother emulated. He was not nearly as agile as Sirius, nor as daring, but he kept up well enough. His heart thumped in rhythmic bliss as they raced back and forth between the hoops at either end of the field.

He landed in the grass with a frosty crunch, and wiped a mittened hand under his nose. They were both rosy cheeked and wind-rustled, but entirely thrilled to have spent their afternoon outside. Sirius came in beside his brother and raised his face to the sky, squinting at the paling sun. 

“Mum’s gonna call us in soon.” Regulus said, noting the dark evening spreading across the heavens above. 

“Yeah.” Sirius agreed. His hair had grown long over the summer, and hung in loose, round curls around his heart-shaped face. Walburga hated the length, but Sirius wouldn’t let her cut it. Instead, he pulled out an old Black Family picture album and referenced all the generations of men that wore their hair long. Walburga conceded, and reduced her threats of a haircut considerably. His face held a sheepish, quiet worry. “I’m not ready to go in.” 

“Okay.” Regulus shrugged. The long windows of Grimmauld place cast a cool glow across the street. They were permanently grateful for the small, manicured park across from their home, where their father would erect the quidditch hoops. It often felt like the sliver of nature was worlds away from the confines of the Black house. 

“Will you stay out with me?” Sirius glanced at his brother.

“Yeah, ‘till mum calls.” He nodded and passed on a gentle smile. 

He didn’t really want to go inside, but knew that when Walburga wanted him to, he would. It was always easier to do what she wanted, and he was getting cold anyways. The boys sat on their brooms and looped slowly a few feet above the ground, waiting for the call. 

Sirius had been excited for his birthday. His eleventh birthday. The birthday all wizard children in Britain looked forward to. It meant that soon, an envelope with a red wax seal would arrive on the leg of an owl, and invite Sirius away to study at Hogwarts. For a boy who had a hard time sitting still, this was a wonderful, thrilling idea. No parents, no family dinners, no long, boring recitations of the Black family values. As they puttered on their brooms, Regulus thought that Sirius looked remarkably down-trodden for someone now only a year away from being whisked off to Hogwarts. 

This secretly pleased the younger Black brother. Life without Sirius ruffling feathers in the house would be horrifically uninteresting, and although he was only a year behind his brother, Regulus didn’t want to be alone for a second. He hoped that Sirius would miss him as much as he knew he’d miss Sirius. 

The sky drew slowly into dusk above them. They waited. 

Finally, through the crisp air- “Boys! Inside!” 

Regulus gave a final sniff and stepped into the grass once again. Sirius stayed afloat, head tilted to the sky. 

“You go on,” he said. “I’ll come in when I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck JK Rowling :)


	3. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party.

31st December, 1970  
London

The walls of 12 Grimmauld place hung damp with the condensation of a hundred voices sputtering and laughing over each other. Champagne fizzed lazily in crystal flutes and gave off the dizzying, delicious scent of sugar and booze. Some of the men at the party held the smoldering stumps of cigars in their mouths, and some of the women perched precariously slim cigarettes between their fingers. It felt as if every floating movement went in slow motion, weighed down by the fog. 

Regulus’s head swam, and he lurched gently forward, trying to steady himself. He always tried not to slump back into the couch cushions when they had company over, and tonight was no exception. This particular party was always difficult for him. Staying up late- well into the new year- was never his cup of tea. He liked the night, but only in the way that it was silent and peaceful, and New Year’s Eve was decidedly neither of those things. 

Socializing was exhausting for the young boy. He’d always been much quieter than the other members of his family- even Sirius was called things like “charming” and “clever”. Regulus felt like he was working hard just to smile across the dinner table, or answer questions about his studies. He noticed the glazed look that came over people when he spoke, like their minds were leaving them completely and floating farther and farther out of the realm of his voice. At least Miss Flint had sat close by during dinner; she listened closely whenever he tried to chime into the conversation with an interesting tidbit about Centaur civilization. 

Mostly, Regulus felt drained after hours of entertaining. By this point in the evening, the adults were all more rambunctious and wild than he thought any group of adults ought to be. They all laughed in a vicious, drunk chorus and sloshed their drinks around in their cups. Even Orion, arguably the most stoic man in the world, had undone his tie. Just past midnight, he thought to himself. Midnight, then bed.

To cope with the overwhelming sleepiness tugging at his eyelids, Regulus stared directly into the flames licking the hearth of the drawing room. He traced over the blazing shapes and felt the hot kiss of them warm his cheeks. It, at least, helped keep his eyes open. 

“Oi.” Sirius flopped into the seat beside his brother. He had a glass clutched in one hand, and Regulus thought he looked remarkably grown up in his dress robes. In his other hand was a small porcelain plate with a tall slice of cake on it. He shoved the cake toward Regulus, who hadn’t heard the call for dessert. 

“Oh, cheers. Thank you.” Regulus accepted the treat, and inhaled deeply as he brought the fork to his mouth. Rich chocolate and cherries, his favorite. 

Sirius leaned back, slouching intensely, and slid his legs out straight before him. His dark brow was pulled low over his eyes, his sharp features were all drawn in and tight. He looked utterly miserable. 

“Mmph?” Regulus grunted, and offered a forkful of black forest cake. 

“Thanks.” Sirius leaned over and took the bite. 

He’d become a master of small acts of defiance. If anyone who cared had seen, both boys would’ve been scolded intensely for their poor manners, because somehow feeding each other was absolutely abhorrent in every way. Regulus giggled quietly at the thought of their father causing a scene at his own party, and was grateful that neither their parents nor their snitch cousins were in the room. 

“Where’s Andromeda?” Regulus asked. 

“Got caught up chatting with Rabastan and Rodolphus.” Sirius shook his head. “That lot are bloody boring.” 

“Bellatrix seems like she really likes Rodolphus, though.” Regulus considered. His eldest cousin had never really seemed the type to giggle, but he’d caught her doing so at nearly everything Rodolphus said during dinner. 

“Yeah, well… Bellatrix is crazy, so that makes sense.” Sirius cracked a wide, mischievous grin. The raucous conversations of their distant relatives in the room provided a certain veil of privacy that was impossible to find in the quiet recesses of the house. No one could possibly be eavesdropping in the middle of the busy room. 

Regulus snorted, then smiled. “She is eccentric.” 

The cake and conversation gave him a rushing second wind, and he suddenly found himself completely free of the heavy sleep. He shifted in the seat, stretching his back left and right, trying to wake up his body. Midnight had to be approaching. 

“‘Dromeda brought me a new record.” Sirius’s face grew sheepish at the confession. These records, which had been banned from the house many times over, were Muggle music with crooning voices and jarring guitar riffs. They were wonderful, and made Regulus’s stomach drop. 

“Not again.” Regulus groaned. He’d had to research for nearly a month to figure out how to thoroughly conceal the record player in Sirius’s room, and nearly another month to make a believable enough decoy for Walburga to destroy when she inevitably discovered Sirius’s stash. Now it seemed that any time Sirius wanted to indulge in listening to one of these records, it also meant that Regulus would need to perform some kind of illegal underage magic. 

“Oh yeah, little brother. Again.” He grinned. “It looks like a good one- The Stones or something, I dunno. ‘Dromeda said it was popular.” 

“Can’t you wait until you get to school?” He pleaded.

“That’s in nine months!” Sirius’s look grew more devilish with every second. “No, that won’t do. I can wait a week at most.” 

“Mum’s gonna kill you.” Regulus shook his head. “And Andromeda, for that matter.” 

“Eh, Andromeda’s on her way out the door anyways. She says she met some guy-” 

“Andromeda says what?” Their cousin dropped her face between the brothers, leaning far over the back of the couch to do so. Her dark hair was wrapped up in a thick, plaited crown around her head. In the light of the fire, her features were soft and shifting; she was the only friendly looking member of the Black family. She glanced back and forth between the boys, then crawled nimbly into the seat between them. “What are you dweebs talking about? Is that cake?” 

She snatched the fork from Regulus’s hand and scooped a small bite into her mouth without asking, but he didn’t really mind. She was never the type to his things just to deprive him of them. 

“What’s a dweeb?” He asked innocently. 

“Like a nerd. A smarty-pants. A know-it-all.” She settled into the couch with effortless grace. “It’s a muggle word.” 

“Oh.” 

“I was just telling Reggie about the record you got me.” Sirius piped up. He turned slightly, leaning against the arm of the couch to face his cousin and brother. His entire demeanor changed whenever Andromeda was near; his eyes brightened and his posture straightened. 

“Mm. You’ll like it.” She nodded precisely, working the fudgy cake in her mouth slowly. 

“Yeah, if mum doesn’t find it first.” Regulus grumbled, inhaling hard. He wasn’t opposed to the records. They were fun, and the music was enchanting, but he didn’t see the point in having them when they caused such a riff with their parents. Orion would be furious if he knew that his son was consuming Muggle media. They’d always made it plenty clear that this was below their class. 

The first time Orion caught Sirius with a muggle novel, he forced his son to sit by the fireplace- the same one they sat by now- and burn it page by page. Regulus remembered the blisters on the tips of his brother’s fingers, and how he’d been instructed not to put anything on them. The risk of that suffering just didn’t seem worth it. 

“Aw, lighten up little Regulus, it’s just a record.” Andromeda ruffled her young cousin’s hair. “How are you feeling about Hogwarts this year, Sirius?” 

“Excited.” He beamed. “Mum’s gonna take us to Diagon Alley and everything this year.” 

“That’ll be fun! Make sure you don’t let the old bloke at Flourish and Blott’s sell you the fancy copy of Hogwarts: A History. It’s the same as the standard text, just green instead of red.” Andromeda chuckled. She was full of these eighteen year old wisdoms. “What about you, Little King, are you excited to have all of Grimmauld place for your solitary rule?” 

He shrugged. “Sure.” 

“The year will go fast, I promise.” She smiled so warmly, and looked into his face so earnestly, that he thought he might evaporate. 

As much as he sometimes wished he didn’t, Regulus really did love his cousin. She was warm and intelligent, and hardly ever ignored him when he was around. She never failed to ask him about how he was. He understood why Sirius grasped so desperately for her attention.

“Mum and dad said they’re going to hire a second governess this year, so I don’t bore Miss Flint.” He felt himself saying. 

“Yeah?” She looked amused. “Who d’you reckon it’ll be?” 

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged again. “I think father said that Alecto Carrow had asked.” 

Both Sirius and Andromeda went suddenly silent, their faces stony. The look on Andromeda held a deep, withering angst that told him something was weighing on her. There was a near audible tension turning between him and them, and it burned on Regulus’s cheeks. Had he said something wrong? Was there something wrong with the Carrows? He felt worry creep up his throat in a wild scramble that churned his insides. 

He wanted to plead for them to speak- to break the punishing silence- but instead stared dumbly at them, stoic. 

“That’ll be fun, cousin.” Andromeda said, finally, and gave a humorless smile. 

Sirius popped up and dusted off the front of his robes dramatically. “More punch. ‘Dromeda?” 

He held out a slender hand to his cousin, who accepted it graciously. The two scurried off into the fray without another word, disappearing between the broad bodies of all the wizarding world’s finest members. 

Regulus was alone again, and soon felt the fleeting excitement of their presence leave him, too. He allowed himself to loosen his posture, and sank slowly back into the firm cushions. Midnight, he thought.

14th March, 1971  
London

“No. Again.” Walburga’s words clipped harshly as they came from between her thin lips. The woman paced back and forth before her sons, patting her spindly wand loosely against one palm.

Sirius began again, his chin pitched downward as he worked loosely over the pages in his hands. His recitations always took a long time, but Walburga was more nitpicky of his pronunciation than Miss Flint. She would not be appeased until his accent was perfect, no matter how many hours she had both boys standing in their classroom. 

And it had been many hours since they began. Regulus wished that Miss Flint weren’t sick, that she would twirl into the room and dismiss them to spend their afternoon outside, where the first bursts of springtime sun had come and passed. He’d watched through the window as those precious hours of afternoon were drained away to evening, the dusk spreading across the sky like a sheet of snow. He’d listened to the same French passage over and over until the words became formless mush in his ears. 

“Être adulte, c’est être seul.” Sirius said this last part quietly. He knew that this was the single sentence that was holding them up. 

“No!” Walburga roared. “You stupid boy! I don’t know why we pay for these lessons when you are clearly not smart enough to learn. Again!” 

Regulus, though not the recipient of this insult, flinched. There was no definite moment in his life that Regulus first felt afraid of his mother. It grew inside him like a body part, like it was as much a part of him as his legs or his heart. Being in a room with her meant that you waited as patiently as possible, and avoided her glare at all costs. He felt the hum of his brother’s body beside him as he began to shake, the book pages fluttering gently against each other. He began again, but this time his voice wavered with the beginnings of tears. Their mother stiffened, and turned toward Sirius. Her face pulled into a vicious sneer. 

“If you cannot say this simple passage, I don’t see the point in you speaking at all.” She flicked her wand sharply. “Silencio!” 

Sirius didn’t try to speak again, just lowered the book and dropped his eyes to the floorboards. Whether she lifted the spell soon was entirely dependent on her mood, but trying to argue, or stomping in frustration was sure to extend the length of his punishment. He looked completely dejected, staring at the floor with wide, glossy eyes. Walburga stormed from the room in a whirlwind of fluttering robes. They heard her heavy footsteps sound through the house, before the slam of her study door. 

Regulus exhaled, and turned to Sirius, who did not move. He slid his hand gently into his brother’s and did not speak, instead offering a reassuring squeeze. Though it’d never been said, Regulus knew exactly what his brother needed. They tiptoed, hand in hand, into Regulus’s room and shut the door as soundlessly as possible. Sirius wept silently, tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping off his chin, but his features did not betray him. His face held the same stony posture it always did. 

The fire started up easily in the hearth, and both boys curled up into blankets at the foot of the bed, a chess set between them. At one point, this particular set had been fully animated, and had belonged to previous generations of Black children, but Regulus had broken the animation spells so it could be played without speaking. He moved a pawn. Sirius countered.  
They played their game slowly, each taking a long moment to ponder their moves. Sirius’s eyes dried, and by the time Regulus finally captured his queen, there was enough life in him to smile. The younger brother had a ten year winning streak, and had no intentions of giving up now. 

The evening passed in this quiet way. Neither boy tried to speak, nor would speak, until they both could again. They’d never had a conversation about these long stints of silence- all their rules about caring for each other were entirely unspoken. Years of trial and error had given them clear rules to follow. 

Regulus wondered why his brother still cried at the silencing, why their mother’s words seemed to cut him so deeply. To him, these things were all meaningless occurrences, as noteworthy as making beds or using the restroom. When he’d been silenced, he could never find the energy to be sad about it. Things were always easier if he didn’t fight them.


End file.
